A Sense of Agency
by At Some Actor's West Side Loft
Summary: Harry hears something weird from Professor Trelawney when he visits Hogwarts 2 years after graduating for a party. Though he forgets about it when life gets in the way, he can't help but feel the prophecy has some merit.
1. Quidditch on a Sunday

Harry thought he heard an owl's hoot over the din of a rather large Sunday afternoon Quidditch watch party, but dismissed it and turned back to the television (a gift from George and Ron to their parents). To the delight of the Weasley family, Harry, Hermione, and their school friends, Ginny had successfully earned a spot as a Chaser for the Chudley Cannons. Today, the Cannons were facing the Tutshill Tornadoes in a one game playoff—the winner advanced to the League Cup, a feat that the Cannons had not achieved in nearly a decade and a half.

"But this is the year!" Ron crowed, his face flushed both from pride in his sister's accomplishment and from drinking a few glasses of Firewhiskey to keep his nerves settled. "Even with," he grimaced, "_Gudgeon_ as the seeker…their offense is strong, the goalkeeping decent enough. They've gotta win!"

"Definitely, Ron," Harry nodded. Auror training left him with precious little free time, but he received constant Cannons updates from both Ron and his Quidditch playing girlfriend. "Specially now with Ginny on the team, they're scoring a lot more than they used to. Even if Gudgeon can't get the Snitch, they might have enough points to win anyway!"

An audible sigh came from Harry's right. "Boys and their Quidditch," Hermione shook her head, but she was smiling all the same. "It's been…what, nearly two years since we left Hogwarts, and you're still just as obsessed?"

"Quidditch is our life blood, Hermione!" Ron protested. "It's…"

"It's just bloody cool, really, when you come down to it," Harry mentioned, grinning.

"Yeah!"

"It's only a game!" she insisted.

"Ginny's on the team now though! And watching Quidditch…it's tradition, and you know how much us wizards love tradition," Ron countered, but there was no heat in his voice, only good natured ribbing. Hermione couldn't always comprehend why wizards were so resistant to change. "Imagine if they had computers…how much faster research could get done!" she constantly cried. This differing view on wizarding life had caused a few spats between Ron and Hermione, but they had moved past it. Whereas the old pair of them squabbled over the tiniest things, like whose turn it was to take a minute and apply a few _Scourgify_ charms to the kitchen when they were done eating, they had toned down their arguments recently.

"It's just part of wizard culture, Hermione," the redhead continued. "Imagine if I said you couldn't read books anymore, and…"

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. Ron noticed the warning, angry glitter of her brown eyes and backpedaled, adding hastily, "Not that I'd ever ask you to do that, since I love you so dearly, but…that's what it would feel like to most blokes if you told them they couldn't watch Quidditch."

"Well, I guess I can understand, when you say it like that. Well put, Ronald," she complimented him, then gave him a quick peck. "And throwing in an I love you never hurts."

There was a break in the action—a spectator had gotten smashed in the face with a Bludger. Harry heard the furious pecking as the noise level in the Burrow dropped considerably.

"Alright, alright." He hoped it wasn't a summons for him, as he'd lost quite a few lazy Sundays to extra Auror training already. His fears were unfounded, however, as the envelope bore the Hogwarts crest. "To the Weasley family, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Potter. The Burrow." He laughed at how Hogwarts somehow knew where even graduated students were at any particular time. He slit the letter open with his finger as he walked back into the living room, but a huge gasp from everyone distracted him from reading it.

"What's up?"

"Listen!" George said. Lee Jordan was the commentator. "Yes, and Gudgeon is out, having been knocked clean from his broom by that Bludger…we'll have to see who the Cannons bring on to the field coming out of this timeout, but this does not look good for their chances."

Everyone groaned.

"And, now that the captains are done consulting with the referee, they're off again…hmm…let's see the substitutes. Ginny Weasley looks very much out of position for a Chaser at the moment," Lee observed. "Playing more where a Seeker would, come to think of it. And…oh my, Ginny Weasley _is _the replacement Seeker, just look at her go for that Snitch!"

"C'mon, Ginny!" the Weasleys roared. Even Hermione's gaze got glued to the TV.

"Tutshill's Seeker is closing in, though. Yes, Evan Brind'Amour has a chance, but Weasley's gaining speed, dropping in from above!" Jordan cried. It looked as though Ginny and Brind'Amour's paths were about to cross when the Snitch took a hard turn forward, away from the diagonally flying Ginny.

"They're right there, who will get it?" Lee yelled. Brind'Amour stretched his arm out, the Snitch inches from his grasp. And…

"WEASLEY DIVES FOR IT!" A flash of orange burst in front of the Tornadoes' Seeker…but there was no broom.

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione screamed.

"She's okay!" George shouted. "Her broom followed her, she's back on it, she's alright. And…" Everyone looked dumbstruck. There was Ginny, triumphantly punching the air, speeding toward her teammates on the ground, ready for a giant bear hug.

"SHE'S GOT THE SNITCH!" Lee yelled. "Ginny Weasley with the grab of the decade! Better than Potter, better than Krum! Absolutely incredible! And listen to this crowd, witches and wizards! Looks like we've got a new fan favorite in town…and if I'm not mistaken, it sounds like some Hogwarts alums are putting a twist on an old song," Lee laughed.

The Chudley supporters roared:

_Weasley is our queen, Weasley is our queen!_

_ This redhead is our favorite witch,_

_ For she's the one that caught the Snitch,_

_ Let's go toss Gudgeon in a ditch!_

_ Weasley is our queen!_

"They did it…SHE did it," Ron yelled, high fiving and hugging everyone in the cramped room.

"That was something." Even Hermione had to appreciate the skill. She smirked at Harry. "Better than you, huh?"

"She probably is by now," he admitted. "Man, just watching a match—a play—like that can take a lot out of you. Anyone want anything to drink?"

"How about some Butterbeer for everyone?" Arthur asked.

Harry set down the letter, pulled his wand out of his pocket, and called, "_Accio Butterbeer!"_

Nearly everyone caught the drinks. Ron had been rehashing Ginny's catch with George, rather than paying attention to the flying beverage, so his glass struck him in the side of the head.

"Ow!"

George nearly fell over laughing.

"Sorry, mate," Harry called over the noise.

He finally opened the letter and scanned it for information. "Hey…we're all invited to Hogwarts for its 1,100th anniversary of its opening. It's in two months, near the end of August."

"Brilliant!" everyone chorused.

Harry grinned. His girlfriend had just sent the Chudley Cannons into the playoffs, and he was going to get to visit Hogwarts for the first time since he'd graduated. For once, Harry Potter got a blessedly uncomplicated and happy day.


	2. Sunday Night Work

"Anyone want another bit of Treacle Tart?" Molly asked.

"No," replied the overstuffed witches and wizards.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry extricated themselves from the crowded table.

"We really need to be getting on home, Molly," Hermione said, giving the matriarch a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I've got to edit this research paper on house elf trauma to Cresswell, since no one else seems to care that so many of their kind are drinking themselves to death with butterbeer because it's so much more important to keep a status symbol around…" Hermione's face flushed into a bright pink at her outburst. She quieted down and took an awkward, slow step toward the door. "Well, anyway, I've got a lot to do."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley responded kindly. She gave the other members of the trio hugs as well and told Harry, "Say hi to Ginny for me, love. And congratulations on her wonderful match!"

"Sure thing, Molly," Harry replied. With that, Harry, Ron, and Hermione apparated back to their house in London.

The fact that people wanted to live with Harry still gave him a warm glow in his stomach, and the memory of signing the renter's contract a bit over a year ago held enough strength, he knew, to produce a good Patronus. Even at Hogwarts, Harry had struggled to feel completely "at home," despite being among his kind of people. Of course, the majority of the wizarding world once again loved The Boy Who Lived (or, as Harry was now called, The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord). But fewer people liked and respected…just _Harry._ That desire to be more than a name had led him to become an Auror. Although, at times, Harry would rather face down the Hungarian Horntail again if it exempted him from participating in any more Poisons and Antidotes field tests, he knew the job—the calling—offered him fulfillment. Sure, he'd briefly considered taking the opportunity to play for England's national team as a Seeker, but Quidditch had always been a release for him, not a job.

The trio arrived at the doorstep of their home—Harry's Auror training had put a bit of Mad-Eye Moody's "constant vigilance" into his head, and he didn't want anyone to be able to Apparate directly into the house. However, per usual, there was nothing to worry about—Neville and Susan were doing work in the studying nook just past Hermione's bedroom.

"Hi guys!" they greeted.

"Neville, how are you doing work right now?" Ron asked. "Hogwarts is on vacation!"

"Well, even though I'm only an assistant professor at the moment, it's not like I can just lay around all summer, mate," Neville laughed. "Professor Sprout wanted me to review the curriculum for fifth years…apparently our standards could be a bit higher, according to the Department of Education."

Susan, meanwhile, had taken up half a table and two chintz armchairs with paperwork on her various clients. Normally, her housemates left her alone when she was working, but tonight, Hermione approached her immediately. "Susan, do you have a minute?"

The redhead put her coffee back down on the table. "Sure."

"I was wondering if you could give me a couple of quotes to include in my piece on the mental health of house elves." That was Hermione—no qualms about jumping right into something when it needed to get done.

"Erm…why?"

"Well, seeing as you're a therapist who talks to people about traumatic experiences, I figured maybe you'd have some insight on what a house elf feels like," Hermione argued.

"Well…well, I don't." Susan replied curtly. "Not that I don't want to help your cause, Hermione, but I'm only just finishing up my Muggle schooling now, and I'm hardly an expert on my own subject. I wouldn't want to put any inaccurate information into your article."

"Okay. Do you know anyone who could help me?"

"I'll see. I've got to get back to work now, though." Susan added, "But really, good luck with your fight. I know it's important."

Hermione managed a small smile. "Thanks." She retreated to her room and closed the door with a snap.

Ron sighed as he put down a spell book he was reading—he and George had failed to find a good way to make cough drops that actually induced coughing as part of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes "medicine" line, and the book apparently offered no answers. Suddenly, he glared at Susan. Feeling his eyes upon her, she looked up.

"Yes?"

"Couldn't you have been a bit nicer to Hermione? You know how much the house elf rights thing means to her!" Ron argued.

"Don't we all," Susan remarked dryly. "Look, I have nothing against Hermione, but she sometimes comes off as a bit…brash. Like what you're doing isn't that important if it's not for a noble cause."

"Well, can't disagree there. It's just…" Ron sighed again. "Sorry, she's just been nagging me about being supportive, and I'm trying, but it's difficult since…well, who really cares that much about house elves besides Mione? Not that I don't, but the people she needs to convince are set in their ways."

"Well, maybe we need to convince them they're wrong," Harry suggested. Susan and Ron looked up—he'd been silent til then, and they'd practically forgotten he was there.

"I mean…Dobby got us out of Malfoy Manor," he continued. Though Harry did privately agree with Ron that Hermione's fight probably wouldn't end well, he could relate to house elves in some way: he'd been one to the Dursleys for nearly five years. When he was seven, he'd been asked—ordered, more like—to take responsibility for most of the household chores, and had been driven mad by the sight of Dudley lolling around on summer holiday while he, Harry, vacuumed the living room and cleaned the kitchen and…

"She's right, you know." The memories brought the words out of him.

"Of…of course she is, Harry," Susan said gently.

"We all want this paper of hers to go over well with the department. It would be a good first step," Neville chimed in.

"And it could happen. She's brilliant," Ron said proudly. Then his voice lost its happy tone. "It's just…there's more important things she could be doing. Things that the Ministry would take…more seriously."

"I s'pose," Harry conceded. "Well, I've got to review some stuff for my field test tomorrow, so I'll see you all later."

They nodded, and he tried not to appear too irritated with the lot of them as he left the room.


	3. A Bit of Fun

The Hogwarts reunion snuck up on Harry, Ron, and Hermione as if it were Mrs. Norris. "Ron! Hurry up!" Hermione yelled. "We don't want to be late?"

"Why can't we just Apparate there, eh?" the tired redhead grumbled.

"You can't Apparate into or out of Hogwarts grounds, how many times do I have to tell you?" she snapped.

"Give it a few more tries, maybe we'll remember when we hear it on attempt number 100," Harry smirked. He gave Ginny a peck on the cheek as she walked in from the kitchen, munching on a bagel. "Good morning, dear."

"S'not a good morning yet," she yawned. "Haven't had my coffee…"

Susan brought over a mug. "Here you are, Ginny," she smiled brightly. She, Neville, and Hermione were the "morning people" of the house, a fact that Harry and the Weasleys both appreciated and resented. It was nice that not everyone was miserable, but at the same time, the sleepyheads were expected to be chipper—an impossible task.

"C'mon everyone," Neville urged them, but he was too nice to inject any sort of bossy tone into his voice.

"Right, this should sort everyone out," Hermione grinned. Harry frowned. That smile reminded him of Fred and George…

He thought, _"What's she pl-"_

_ "Aguamenti!"_ she cried, directing a blast of ice cold water into Harry, Ron, and Ginny.

"Make it s-sto-stop!" Ron choked.

"_Fin-Finite Incantatem,"_ she choked out around a laugh.

"I'm sorry," she gasped at the dripping wet trio. "But you all looked so darn unhappy just because you had to be up a bit early on a weekend..."

"Well, it's not like Hogwarts wouldn't be there if we arrived later!" Ginny scowled. "Just cause YOU wanted to get there at the crack of dawn. And now I'm soaked. Thanks." She stormed off, her shoes making squishing noises as she walked.

"Couldn't have thought of another way to wake us up, eh?" Harry grunted.

"I'm sorry, I just thought it was funny! You're all telling me to lighten up, and the one time I go and take the mickey out on some people…" she rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'll know better next time."

"It was…kinda funny," Ron admitted. "What's the-"

"Oh, right, drying spell…_Exaresco!"_

Harry felt a blast of hot air blow past his body and rubbed his hoodie. It was completely dry.

"Thanks, Mione. I'll go get Ginny and then we'll be off?" he asked.

"I guess so," she replied, biting her lip. "Could you please tell her I am really sorry, Harry? I don't think she'll want to hear it from me right now."

"Sure thing," he assured her.

Harry collected his girlfriend and dried her off. The subdued group left the house, got in Susan's magically expanded Ford Explorer, and were off for Platform 9 3/4.

After a fairly uneventful trip (save for Ginny hitting Malfoy with a surreptitious Bat Bogie Hex), the group of friends found themselves at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall was at the front door, sitting behind a large table. "Bones. Granger. Longbottom. Potter. Weasleys." She gave the group a rare, warm smile. "Nice to see all of you again. Now…your peers are on…" She consulted a list. "The seventh floor. Lunch will be served at 1 in the Great Hall. Now, move along, don't want this line to get too congested."

"Thanks, Professor," they chorused.

The group split off a bit as they reached the seventh floor. Ron met up with George and Lee Jordan to discuss ways to sneak their products into Hogwarts. Ginny ran into Madame Hooch, who was excited to ask her about her success with the Chudley Cannons.

"Well, where d'you wanna go?" Neville asked the rest of them as they wandered down an empty hallway near the Room of Requirement.

"How nice it is to see all of you again," a dreamy voice popped out. A light scent of sherry came along with her.

The group scattered, leaving Harry alone with his "favorite" professor.

"Er…hello, Professor Trelawney," he muttered, hoping to get away quickly. "How're you?"

"I have been better…Mars still glows with anger, despite the peace we have enjoyed for the past few years." She sighed. "I fear Dark magic will always possess an appeal for certain people. What are you up to these days, my dear?"

"_If you're a Seer, shouldn't you have been able to predict my future career?"_ Harry thought. Still, there was no need to make the Hogwarts reunion unpleasant. He replied, "I'm finishing up Auror training."

"Continuing to fight, then?" Suddenly, she clutched Harry's arm for support. "Potter," she whispered.

"P-Professor? D'you need Madam Pomfrey?" For an older woman, she had one hell of a grip.

"You will make a choice…that is not a choice. You will gain something unexpected, but at an extraordinary cost," she droned, then took a deep breath, and snapped her head up.

"So how is your work as an Auror going, Harry?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Er…fine. Listen, I've got to go meet up with some friends before the feast, Professor," he stammered, backing away and trying not to walk too quickly. He almost ran smack into Lavender.

"Hi, Harry. Have you seen Professor Trelawney? I heard she was around here."

"Yeah, just ran into her, actually," he nodded. "She's near the Room of Requirement."

"Oh, great, I want to say hi. Thanks!"

After the interruption, Harry made it his goal to find one of the fastest descending staircases in the castle. He met up with Ron, George, Hermione, Ginny, Bill, and Fleur to eat and gave them a quick recap of his run in with the Divination professor.

Hermione gave an exasperated groan. "Don't tell me you actually _believe_ her, Harry."

"She's definitely dodgy," Ron agreed. "She always predicted doom and gloom for you, mate. Just playing the odds."

"Put it out of your mind, love," Ginny advised.

Harry tried to enjoy his meal and the company of his friends, but couldn't stop worrying. He recalled how Trelawney had spaced out after making a prediction involving Peter Pettigrew and his betrayal.

Following the Hogwarts party, nearly the entire Weasley clan and Neville decided to go out to The Leaky Cauldron for some drinks. Harry, Hermione, and Susan declined.

"Right, well, see you at home." Ron gave a cheery wave, kissed Hermione, and gave a whispered "I love you" before he vanished.

Ginny, meanwhile, was still trying to cajole Harry into going.

"C'mon, dear," she urged. "You haven't gone out in ages, and besides, you're Harry freaking Potter! I doubt it'll matter if you show up late or a bit hungover for _one _Auror meeting—"

He kissed her on the cheek and apologized. "Sorry, Gin. Much as I'd like to skive off work, I can't. We've received…" her face clouded over at the apprehensive tone of his voice. "We—the most recent Auror inductees—have received very firm instructions from Kingsley to maintain our focus at this time. He said it's common for people to slack off once they become initiated, and that could jeopardize security."

"Fine," she grumbled.

"I'll come out next time. In a weekend or two, for sure," he promised, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Alright. Love you."

"Love you too," he replied as she disappeared with a "pop."

Once they arrived back at their house, Harry, Hermione, and Susan got to work in the study area. Susan, however, left rather quickly, saying she was tired and wanted to call it a night.

Harry read the same paragraph on the reappearance of Dementors in Wizarding Britain three or four times before putting _The Prophet _aside. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. "Want anything?" he called to Hermione.

"A cherry soda would be great, thanks."

He returned with the drinks and read a smidge of an article over her shoulder. It sounded an awful lot like something he would've studied in Binns' History of Magic class:

_"Though Wizarding history stereotypes goblins as untrustworthy, such claims could be refuted by new evidence of the goings-on at Gringotts Bank. According to the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, only three goblins have ever been indicted of theft—an astonishingly low number, considering how very many goblins have worked at Gringotts since it was established in 1474. This anecdote, along with the Gringotts motto—"Strength through Loyalty"—suggests that goblins are much less greedy than the average wizard or witch would like to believe."_

"Er…what's this for, Hermione?" Harry asked, hoping his tone didn't come across as mocking.

"Well, the Magical Creatures Department has a new initiative: to get goblins wands," she explained. "Of course, the general public isn't at all receptive to this idea, as you can imagine, so we're trying to pass a small bit of legislation that allows goblins restricted wand rights. So, I'm responsible for putting together a defense of goblin character, you could say."

"Well…err…good luck." Harry couldn't think of much else to say. Nor could he help but admire Hermione's determination to improve the Wizarding world for all manner of creatures. "Not that you really need luck," he added quietly. "You're brilliant."

She looked up from her research and gave Harry a genuine smile. "Thanks." She pointed at his beer. "So you _did_ want to go out."

"A bit," he admitted. "Not sure I would've been up for more than one drink, though. And I wanted to take a look at this." He indicated the Dementor article in the paper.

"I thought there was something you weren't telling Ginny earlier," Hermione commented.

"Well, I don't like to worry her unnecessarily—my job is enough cause for concern. But…it's hard to ignore things like Dementors coming out of hiding. Plus, Dawlish has some Muggle relatives. One of his pureblood cousins married a Muggle—their house was blown up last week." Hermione's face blanched. "It's…it's nowhere near bad as it was with Voldemort. But the attack had us shaken. We apprehended two suspects, but they're definitely working on someone else's orders."

Hermione gripped Harry's arm. "You can't hide things like that from people, Harry. We all should know."

"We all deserve some peace," he replied shortly, then gave a laugh—or, really, more of a bark. "At least now we only have to worry about accidentally eating one of Ron's treats." Now he actually did grin, and got up to throw away his empty beer bottle. "Don't need _constant vigilance." _

Hermione smirked. "Still, as an Auror, shouldn't you know better than to keep your wand in your back pocket? Moody would turn you into a ferret for that."

"I've been a wizard for how long, Hermione, and it's never hurt me before," he laughed. Then…"OW!"

Hermione had applied a light Stinging Hex to his wand. "Well, now it has."

"You'll pay for that, Granger," he drawled.

"Really?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge to a duel, Potter?"

"I believe so." They went out to the backyard and cast a few _Lumos _spells into the lanterns that surrounded the large garden.

"Have we ever dueled before?" Harry asked after bowing.

"I don't think so…_Expelliarmus!"_

Harry blocked it with a quick Shield Charm. "C'mon, you think I wouldn't know to expect that?" He clicked his tongue at Hermione and gave his best teacher voice. "You're capable of better, Miss Granger."

"Right, then…_Rictusempra! Petrificus Totalus!"_

Harry dodged, then responded with a Jelly Legs Jinx. Hermione neatly deflected it right back at him, and he only barely sidestepped it.

Suddenly, the pair were hanging upside down.

"Harry, you git!" Hermione screamed shrilly.

"I'm the git? You hit me with a Levicorpus, too, Hermione!" he yelled.

"Well…sorry! I always wanted to use it on someone, and this happened to be a convenient time." Her upside down face scrunched in discomfort. "How do we get out of this, exactly?"

"Er…I'll let myself down first, then get you?" he suggested.

"That'll hurt!"

"I've fallen off my broom and been fine, this won't be that bad." He waved away her concern. Harry pointed his wand at himself. "_Liberacorpus!"_ He crashed to the earth and got up on wobbly legs.

"Right…ready?" He positioned himself under Hermione.

"Yeah. _Liberacorpus!"_ she cried.

"_Impedimenta!"_

Her less than graceful descent slowed to a gentle fall, and Harry caught her easily.

"Thanks…sort of," she laughed and picked a few blades of grass out of his hair.

"You're partially welcome." He rubbed her hair out of her eyes. Hermione normally kept it fairly well tamed, but he rather liked the messy, undone look on her.

Harry dropped her at the loud _crack_ that marked a successful Apparition.

"Er…what're you two doin out here?" Ron's speech was a bit slurred.

"Why's Hermione on the ground?" Ginny asked.

Harry and Hermione laughed and led the slightly less sober members of the household inside.


	4. Attack

Harry woke up, groaned, and extricated himself from Ginny's grasp. The Cannons had won their playoff game, but the match had lasted nearly five hours, leaving the Weasley and her teammates exhausted.

_"Wish I could get some days off,"_ Harry thought to himself as he stumbled into the shower. On the other hand, he usually had weekends free, while Ginny did not.

The hot shower improved his mood a bit, but that improvement vanished when he walked into the kitchen. Neville, Susan, and Hermione stared dumbly at the television. It was on ABC, a Muggle news station.

"What's up?" Harry frowned.

"Ssh!" the group pointed at the reporter on the screen, and Neville turned the volume up a bit.

The poor girl looked exhausted. Her hair fanned out around her in the wind, and the rain had already washed away what little bit of makeup she'd had on.

"We…we have no idea why these murders have occurred. Multiple houses have been burned, blown up, or otherwise attacked…Reports have also come in that London citizens should avoid taking the Tube, as it derailed and suffered a high speed crash slightly over an hour ago…"

Harry joined his friends and collapsed into a chair.

"It's like Voldemort all over again," he whispered, hands clutching his hair.

"The police and the Department of National Security are, of course, trying their best to apprehend the suspects. They urge all London citizens to stay indoors for now, and to travel in groups if necessary." Her voice shook a bit, and her green eyes suddenly dulled. A large snowy owl landed on her shoulder. A twisted smile popped onto her face as she pulled out a quill and a scrap of parchment and began scribbling.

"Bloody hell…what's she doing?" Susan breathed.

They heard swearing in the background—the camera man didn't know what the reporter was up to, either. She slammed the paper into the screen. It read, "_This is only the beginning._"

"And this is what will happen to Mudbloods and blood traitors when the Destruere Nex rise," she intoned in a cheerful, sing song voice before pulling out a gun, cocking it, pointing it at her skull and—

Neville slammed the "power" button of the remote before it happened.

Hermione buried her face in Harry's shoulder. Silent tears trickled down Susan's face. Neville summoned a box of tissues for the girls, then retrieved that day's edition of _The Prophet._

**DARK WIZARDS ATTACK MUGGLES IN LONDON**

Kingsley Shacklebolt's Patronus glided through the front door. "Auror Potter, your presence is requested. Apparate to the Ministry as soon as possible. Increase the protections and wards on your residence. Report directly to the Ministry."

He'd done this before. He ran upstairs, gave the still sleeping Ginny a kiss on her forehead, and wrote a quick note.

"_Gin—Gotta go in early today. I'll see you later. Love always, Harry."_

The others had recovered their wits a bit and were casting defensive spells and enchantments all around the perimeter of the house.

"Here we go again." Harry set his mouth in a grim line and disapparated for the Ministry.


	5. Aftermath

A noisy uproar overwhelmed Harry upon his arrival at the Ministry. Someone grabbed him roughly by the collar. "What is your wife's preferred broomstick?"

"The Firebolt Victory, Model 2.0," Harry answered. The person let him go.

"Sorry, Potter," Dawlish replied. "Needed to make sure no one's being impersonated, you know how it is."

"Absolutely, no problem."

The older Auror got Harry up to speed as they caught the lift to a conference room near Kingsley's office. "Looks like that Muggle reporter who did herself in was _not_ magical…she was under the Imperious Curse. So, this Destruere Nex group hasn't broken the Statute of Secrecy, since, technically, it was not a magical person who spoke to the Muggles."

"Damn," Harry swore. "That's smart of them, keeps the Muggles from getting involved…and they're probably scared half to death in any event."

"Yep," Dawlish agreed. They nearly jogged to the conference room.

The lines in Kingsley's face had deepened since Harry had last seen the man about a week ago.

"How haven't we heard of this group before?" the Minister barked. "Do we have any information on them?"

"Well, if they're set up near where that televisoned attack took place," Savage pointed at a red dot on a map, "that would place them on the outskirts of a rural Muggle town. It would be a good place to build up support without worrying about outside interference."

"We'll need to do recon around that area later today," Kingsley declared. He turned to Harry. "Potter? Can you and Proudfoot do that?"

"Yes, sir," the Aurors replied.

"Good. Okay, let's see what else we can determine about this little group…" Kingsley muttered. "It appears the attack on the Muggle train was random. However, the houses are…" his face fell as he corrected himself, "or rather, were…"

"Lived in by Muggle relatives of Aurors and other members of the Ministry, sir." He'd just managed to maintain his professional tone—his own cousin had been killed in a "random" attack just a couple of weeks earlier.

"Damn blood supremacists." Harry just remembered to lower his voice before he had cursed. Though Shacklebolt and many new heads of departments had weeded out the bigotry that had marked the rule of Fudge and Umbridge, several people believed the Ministry had gone too far. A few editorials in _The Prophet_ had recently called for a small re-introduction of "wizard pride," and took offense at the attempts of the Magical Creatures Department to improve the living conditions for "sub-human" species like elves and goblins. Harry wondered if Hermione's department had suffered from any attacks until the sound of a quill scribbling yanked him out of his inward focus.

"So, Destruere Nex is Latin for destructive, violent death, then." Dawlish underlined the words. "Sounds like we're dealing with another round of Death Eaters here, Kingsley."

"Yes, that seems to be the case." He glanced up at the clock. It was just going on 7:30. "I will be getting in contact with the Muggle Prime Minister shortly to discuss precautions we could set up to try and limit casualties should future attacks be in store. For now…" he looked back at the clock. "How about you all go home, get some rest, and report back in around noon."

With that, the team of wizards disassembled.

Harry arrived home to find a distraught Ginny crying at the kitchen table.

"It's h-horrible. All this happening again." Her breath hitched into Harry's neck as he wrapped her up in a hug.

"You shouldn't have to go through this again, Harry," she murmured. "Nor the other Aurors. We deserve some peace, don't we?"

"Yeah…we really do." Ginny kissed him hard and bit his bottom lip. "Could we have some peace now?" She wiggled her eyebrows at her boyfriend.

"Could I get a raincheck, love?" She sighed. "Sorry, Gin. I'm just not in the mood right now, and I'm pretty knackered."

"Alright." She kissed his forehead. "Get on to bed, then, Mr. Potter, and when you wake up, there will be a large brunch waiting for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry joked. That earned him a swat on the back of the head and a "Shut up, Potter" as he walked off to his bedroom.

After a two hour, potion induced nap, Harry woke up to the smell of waffles, hash browns, and bacon cooking on a magically enlarged griddle.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were helping themselves when Harry walked in with a yawn and a stretch.

"Feeling better, dear?" Ginny asked.

"Loads, thanks, Gin," he replied, giving her a less than chaste kiss. "And thank you so much for cooking breakfast—or is it lunch by this time?" he laughed.

Ginny blushed at her boyfriend's compliment. "Yes, well, Ron and Hermione helped too."

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Munching on toast and eggs at home at 10:00 on a weekday was a distinctly not Hermione thing to be doing.

"Taking a bit of a personal day," she shrugged. "Creswell owled, said he's been getting Howlers all day—apparently the Destruere Nex riled up some of the more radical opponents of the Ministry. And Ron mentioned that I haven't used a lick of vacation day since I started at the Ministry, so I figured…"

"Why not relax for once?" Ron finished the sentence, looking positively gleeful at his achievement—he'd Hermione to skive off something for the first time since she'd stormed out of Divination class in her third year.

"What do you do on a day off, though?" she wondered.

Ron laughed and nearly choked on his waffle in the process.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's overzealous eating. "_Anapneo."_

Ron smiled. "Thanks, Hermione. And you can do whatever you like on a day off! Catch up on sleep, watch TV, play some wizard chess…" Peeves, the owl George had recently purchased for shop business deliveries, pecked at a window.

Ron opened the window, and the large black owl zoomed around the living room. "God, I swear he's related to Pig. Stupid thing…"

"I guess Weasleys just aren't allowed to have normal animals," Harry commented, grinning.

Ron snorted. "Got that right. _Accio Peeves!"_ The owl made like a bullet for the redhead, but his days as a Gryffindor Keeper allowed him to catch it easily enough.

He looked over the letter. "Bloody hell! We're nearly sold out of our line of defense products! Looks like I've gotta go in early and order some more."

He gave Hermione a quick kiss. "Don't worry too much about…everything, dear. I mean, I know you'll worry some, but don't…err…"

"Go mental?" she commented, using one of Ron's favorite terms.

"Yep, exactly." He turned to his sister and best friend. "See you lot round dinner, then. Thanks for the breakfast, sis." He popped into thin air.

As Harry and Hermione magically cleaned up the plates, Ginny went to get on her Quidditch robes—she apparently still had practice that day.

"It's wicked that you're still in the playoffs," Harry told her just before she left.

"Yeah," she smiled. "Think you could come to the semi-final on Sunday? I always feel like I fly my best when you're there."

Harry nodded. "Of course, dear."

Hermione left the room to allow them a lengthy goodbye kiss.

"I love you. Good luck at practice."

"Love you too. Be safe."

And so, only Harry and Hermione were left at the house. Harry grinned at her. "So, what are you going to do with that day off?"

"I was thinking of popping into the Ministry—and before you tell me off, it's not to work," she added.

"You know me too well, Hermione," he smiled. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Convince Kingsley that we should set up some sort of transport to St. Mungo's to get those Muggles proper medical care," she replied, her tone suggesting that it would be no more difficult than catching the Knight Bus to get somewhere.

"Err…so you're just going to get…what, twenty something Muggles into St. Mungo's without anyone noticing?"

"Well, again, if I had some Ministry help, it wouldn't be impossible."

"But…Hermione…" Harry shook his head at her unyielding idealism. "That sort of thing's just not done. There's too much risk…who knows if St. Mungo's has enough Healers to go round…"

"I'm sure they do," she answered shortly. "After Pettigrew blew up that gas line, there were at least a dozen major injuries…I looked up the details at one point, you know, since it didn't make sense for Sirius not to get a fair trial," she added, and Harry couldn't help but marvel at her memory and thoroughness when it came to work related details. "And they treated all the injured witches and wizards. So why is this any different?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

He sighed. "It's just…some people at the Ministry think wizard status is being stripped of its importance, and…hearing about the kind of rescue mission you're talking about is the type of thing that might give the Destruere Nex even more incentive to attack. And it sounds a bit like a…" he bit his lip. "Saving people thing," he mumbled.

"That's a load of bollocks, Harry, and you know it!" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No one wants to help cause they're Muggles, they're _inferior."_ She put air quotes around the word and continued hotly, "And I'd think you of all people could understand how horrible it is to feel like that…"

"You think I don't want to help them?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "I do, Hermione, and I'd love to throw every one of those bastards that attacked them in jail. But people in the Ministry don't think like you do! People…other people care about appearances, and agendas, and getting ahead." He cut her off swiftly. "And I know, it's horrible, it's not right, but there's only so much you can do. You've gotta be practical sometimes."

"What, so wizards can maintain their superiority?" she retorted, getting nose to nose with Harry now.

"No, so you can survive!" he yelled back. "In case you didn't notice, the Nex are attacking Muggles, and I can't help thinking that you're going to be the next target, and I'm not letting them hurt you!"

Hermione softened at Harry's sweet (though often annoying) over protectiveness. "I get that you want to keep me me, Harry, and I appreciate it. But you're not stopping me," she continued with quiet determination. "After all, you've been doing dangerous stuff for your entire life, and my worrying has never dissuaded you, am I right?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"So, I'm doing this. And again, thank you for the concern," she added kindly. She looked at the clock. "You said you've gotta get back to the office by around noon. Shall we get ourselves put together and then Floo in?"

"Sure," Harry nodded.

They arrived half an hour later—it was a quarter to twelve. "I'll see you later, then," Harry said, giving Hermione a hug. "Good luck."

"You, too. Be careful," she implored.

"You say that like I'm not," he replied with mock indignation.

Hermione snorted. "Because you _never_ get yourself into risky situations." She gave a quick wave, then walked toward a large marble staircase. And as Harry went to the lift, he couldn't help wondering when he'd last spoken to Ginny about something other than food or Quidditch.


	6. Recon

Harry met up with Proudfoot as they made their way to the Aurors' office.

"Hope we have some intel on this group of wackos we're investigating," the older man grumbled with a dour look on his face. "Hardly want to go wandering into the outskirts of a deserted Muggle town and find myself at wand-point." Grizzled, but not unkind, Proudfoot reminded Harry of a more sociable and slightly politer version of the late Mad-Eye Moody.

Harry agreed. "Yeah…wouldn't mind having a crystal ball for once."

The older man gave a Sirius like grin. "Merlin knows you've walked into enough death traps in your day, Potter. Wouldn't hurt to befriend a true Seer…it wouldn't do much, but it would be better than nothing."

The comment reminded Harry of Trelawney's prediction. "_Blimey, the reunion was already nearly a month ago?" _He racked his brain to recall the words…something about a choice that wasn't a choice…something unexpected gained…

_"Well, I've gained a few scars and headaches recently, but that's hardly unexpected," _he thought, smirking.

Deciding that his friends had been right, and Trelawney's prophecy was a load of rubbish, Harry refocused his mind on the task he'd be facing in just a few minutes: infiltrate the Muggle town of Hinchley Wood.

Kingsley filled in the pair of wizards. "There's been minor Dark activity near there, but never enough to warrant going over. Someone put a bunch of Dungbombs in a park, things like that…we figured these were Muggle pranksters until one of our agents was going through the area, as she has family near Hinchley Wood, and saw magic graffiti on a garage. Wouldn't come off with Scourgify or Aguamenti." Kingsley sighed. "It's hard enough keeping track of all the magic that goes on unnoticed in London alone, but you throw in these Muggle places…anyway, we believe their hideout is somewhere in this neighborhood." He pointed to a cluster of x's on the map and continued, "Most of the magical occurrences have centered around here, near the train station, though other activity has been detected elsewhere. We have not heard of any more attacks, but we had a team put apparition alert wards up soon after the last one, and they have not been set off, nor have they been tampered with, as far as we know. Additionally, we've seen an unusual crowd of Muggles popping in and out of a house that's about a ten minute walk from where the train was. These may be members of the Nex in disguise, but it could just be a common meeting place for Muggles, so be careful and use discretion." Kingsley coughed and resumed his speech. "If you gather any kind of information, we'll collect it in a clean pensieve upon your return. Should you need assistance, we will of course be on call." He touched the small "MoM" badge that all Aurors wore on their robes when going on missions. Harry grinned. Hermione's enchanted coin idea from fifth year was still alive and well. If an Auror desperately needed aid, they could tap the badge three times, and it would send out an alert to other Aurors with the badge.

"Would you be able to get a report back by…say, Friday afternoon? Two days from now?"

"Sure thing, sir," Proudfoot answered. He retrieved two small hip flasks from a cabinet and filled them with Polyjuice Potion—enough so that he and Harry could assume different identities for around two or three hours, should their recon work take an especially long time. Voldemort's previous attacks had convinced the Ministry that they could improve their covert operations.

"Got your cloak, then?" Proudfoot asked.

Harry nodded.

"Alright. Well, best be off. I think we'll need to fly in…nowhere to Floo, and Apparating without having a great idea of where you're headed is sure to get you splinched."

The pair summoned a couple of brooms, disillusioned themselves and their transport, and were off.

"Oi, there's the hospital!" Harry called, pointing an invisible finger at a white dot that seemed larger than others.

"Down we go, then!"

They gradually descended and removed the disillusionment charms under the cover of two large oak trees.

"You know the drill, Potter," Proudfoot muttered as he altered his clothes. He changed his cloak into a black leather jacket, and transformed his robes into a dark blue button down shirt and a pair of messy blue jeans.

Harry nodded. His cloak always came in useful for gaining information. In this case, they were planning to visit a Muggle patient in the hospital to try and determine what curses the Destruere Nex had used during the attack.

An urgent whisper. "Potter!"

Proudfoot beckoned to the invisible Auror.

"What?"

"How are we going to explain why two random men are dropping by to visit a Muggle in a hospital? Won't it be a bit odd for us to just be asking questions about the attack?"

Harry blushed. Even after Hogwarts, he wasn't accustomed to coming up with more than spur of the moment plans. "Yes…So, um, how about we…tell the patient we're policemen if he gets suspicious? We could say we're off duty?" he suggested, hoping the older Auror would find his plan acceptable.

"With a persuasion charm…it'll do," Proudfoot grunted. He cracked a smile at Harry. "Always gotta be thinking on this job, Potter. Take it from a former Ravenclaw."

The receptionist looked over as the door opened, but no one was there. She gave it no thought—a strong wind sometimes triggered the sliding doors. She went off to grab a cup of coffee. Fortunately for Harry, she left the patient list on her computer open. Next to a name, he saw the information he wanted. "Current status: Stable. Odd references suggest a concussion…"

He reconvened with Proudfoot out by the trees.

"We're going to see a Jason Reynolds. His report said he's been spouting nonsense, but…"

"That nonsense may be important information if the Nex had forgotten to Obliviate him," Proudfoot completed the thought. "But of course, we'll need to be cautious in asking him any questions."

"Absolutely." The two straightened their clothes a bit, then marched into the hospital.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

"We're here to see Jason Reynolds," Proudfoot stated. "We heard he got hurt in that dreadful accident, but we're not from around here."

"I'm his cousin," Harry added quickly.

"Okay." The receptionist sucked in a breath. "Jason's…doing alright. His injuries were less severe than some others, but he's not always making sense when he talks. So, I apologize in advance if anything he says seems disturbing or…off."

"We understand," Proudfoot assured her. "He's been through a pretty traumatic experience. Thinking you're catching a train to get home, or to work, or to a mate's house and then…"

Harry suddenly felt a wave of empathy for the Muggles. They had to deal with disappearances and deaths, same as magical folk, but they hadn't volunteered to fight against the Dark. The Muggles who were tortured at the Quidditch World Cup in his fourth year—their only crime had been to come into contact with Death Eaters, and that was hardly their fault.

"It's been very trying," the receptionist admitted quietly as she led the wizards into an elevator and then down a hallway. She managed a wan smile. "As I said before, Jason's doing better than some others. He broke a couple of ribs and suffered minor head trauma, and he's been saying all sorts of strange things…he may have a concussion," the woman concluded. With that, they had reached Jason's door. "I'll let you speak to Jason privately, and will be back in a few minutes—I just need to check on another more seriously injured patient first." She left, and the two Aurors took quick action before entering the room.

Harry pointed his wand at the door. "_Muffliato!"_

Proudfoot, meanwhile, had charmed a piece of spare parchment. If Jason wasn't convinced that the two men were policemen, the paper would do the trick. They went in. Jason, it seemed, had just woken up.

"Er…not to be rude, but why are two strange men in my hospital room?" he frowned, then winced as he tried to sit up.

"We're working undercover with the British police, Mr. Reynolds," Proudfoot answered. "We're trying to gather information about the recent…breakdown on the Tube from eyewitnesses, since we've had conflicting reports about what really happened."

"Well, I know this is going to sound a bit crazy, mate…"

Harry interrupted gently, "We're taking everything in this matter very seriously, sir. Anything you could tell us—if you're up for it—would be appreciated."

"Right." Jason adjusted a pillow to prop himself up, then continued his story. "Well, I was waiting for the train, actually. This kinda oddly dressed woman and…maybe her boyfriend, I guess, were there, too, along with some other people. But, you know, it's London, you get all sorts of folk here. I remember just a couple minutes before the train arrived, those were talking to each other quietly. And one of 'em said, 'We've gotta get more here soon. The shipping process is taking too long.' And one of them mentioned there were more of…whatever…coming from a place called Bulgaria."

"Why did these people stand out to you?" Harry asked.

"Well, soon as the train arrived, and just before it crashed, they vanished. There one minute, gone the next," the middle aged man replied.

"Could they have walked away without you noticing? Gone to a different platform?" Proudfoot suggested.

Jason shook his head. "The platform we were at isn't close to any others, and they didn't go to the staircase or the elevator. One moment they were there, then they weren't."

"Alright." Proudfoot scribbled the information down on his parchment. "Thank you so much, sir. Hope you feel better soon. Rest up."

The man chuckled. "I'm ready to get out of here so I don't have to hear the nurses telling me that all the time…but I will, don't worry."

Harry and Proudfoot left, and began discussing what exactly Jason's words meant. "They need more…more what?" Harry wondered.

"And what are they getting from Bulgaria?"

"If they're shipping, say, something illegal over here, you'd think the Ministry would've heard about it," Harry added.

Proudfoot snorted. "You still have a bit too much faith in the Ministry's abilities, Potter. Dark wizards grow up in deception, finding ways around laws is second nature to them. Should they want to hide something, they can."

"Well, hopefully we're going to find out what they're hiding now."

As they walked down the street, they noticed seven Muggles drive down, park, and walk into the same house.

"That looks like our target," Proudfoot muttered. The two wizards cut down a side street. Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak as Proudfoot disillusioned himself.

"Shall we sneak into the house?" Harry asked.

"I think it'd be better to eavesdrop from outside if possible," Proudfoot responded.

Harry agreed, and they walked toward the house.

"_Specialis Revelio," _Proudfoot muttered. A slight shimmer, then nothing.

"Alright, no wards except for the anti-Apparition one, but we knew about that," he whispered. The pair walked up the driveway. Harry glanced at the mailbox. There were a pair of eyes on it. It read, "Dr. T.J. Eckleburg." Beside him, Proudfoot chuckled.

"What's funny about that?"

"It's a reference to a Muggle book. One of my friends nicked it from their house and I read it a while ago at Hogwarts. Perhaps an eye doctor once lived here."

Harry felt a twinge of disappointment. Maybe this was just a normal Muggle house after all.

The two wizards found a slightly open window along the side of the house. It appeared to be a window in the living room. They couldn't see much, but they could at least hear what was going on. Harry dug in his pockets and triumphantly pulled out a pair of Extendable Ears. He and Proudfoot crouched down and slipped the ears into the opening.

"So, how's the mobilization coming along?" a female voice asked.

"The trips haff not been questioned, and the Muggles suspect nothing," a man answered.

Harry and Proudfoot looked at (or tried to look at) each other. "Bulgaria," they mouthed.

"And our other supporters?" she asked.

A man and a woman replied, "They've been quite easy to manipulate."

"Exploiting their lack of knowledge about the Ministry has been quite easy. Since the Ministry still relies on the paper and _owls_…" the man snorted, and others joined him in a derisive laugh.

The woman completed his sentence, "It's been no trouble at all for us to use other means of communication to convince our allies that the Ministry must be taken down, and that our 'peaceful negotiations' have been met with warfare. They're accepting that violence may be necessary for the overthrow."

Someone else piped up. "D.T.J.E. I."

The five conspirators suddenly split up. Two of them walked out of the kitchen, while three went out the front door.

_"This doesn't seem good…_" Harry worried. "_What could those letters have meant?_" T.J. seemed absurdly familiar, as though he'd just heard the letters…the name on the mailbox! The eyes!

Proudfoot's thoughts apparently mirrored his own. The older wizard whispered pointed into the magically expanded bag of supplies and whispered, "_Accio Brooms."_ Unfortunately, this gave away their position.

"There they are! _Stupefy!" _the woman shrieked. Harry and Proudfoot rolled under the car in the driveway to dodge the spell.

"You do not haff to vight," the Bulgarian called.

The Aurors heard slow footsteps.

"I think we'll need to blow this car up," Harry muttered.

"And then?"

"Get the hell out of here."

Proudfoot nodded. "3…2…1…"

The pair pointed their wands at the underbelly of the Ford Explorer. "_Reducto!"_

The unexpected blast had everyone ducking for cover. Proudfoot pointed his wand at himself. _"Ascendio!"_

Harry followed suit. They used the extra space in the air to clamber onto their brooms and began making their escape.

Harry screamed in pain—he'd been struck in the back with what felt like a fairly sharp dagger, and nearly slid off his broom. His eyes grew heavy, and his vision faded to black. He registered that Proudfoot grabbed him before going unconscious.


	7. Chatting at St Mungo's

Ch. 7

Harry woke up groggy. Something passed into his field of vision. "_Hey, red string!"_ He made a grab for it, but it jerked away.

"Oh…thank goodness, he's awake now!" Ginny called. A Healer rushed over.

Harry tried to sit up, then fell back against his pillow, wincing at his aching head and back. Though he was by no means old—barely 20—he could no longer tolerate boatloads of physical pain quite as well as he had at Hogwarts.

"D'you remember what happened?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah…" he mumbled. His eyes widened. "The Nox have a plan! They're…"

Another female voice filled him in. "Proudfoot alerted the Minister, Harry." It was Hermione. She tried to give him a smile, but it looked none too good, given the unnaturally pale complexion of her face.

"How—how long have I been here?"

"About twelve hours," answered Ginny.

"They think you got hit by that curse that Dolohov used on me in the Department of Mysteries, based on your injuries, but it must have been a more powerful version of that spell," Hermione added, her voice shaking. "We couldn't believe you were out of it for so long, even before the Healers gave you a dreamless sleep potion…"

Ron wrapped his arm round Hermione's shoulder, and she hugged him tightly. "We were worried about you, mate," he stated simply.

Harry appreciated his friends being there, but he still had one concern to voice. "How'd I get to St. Mungo's? I doubt Side Along Apparition would've been a good idea with me being, y'know, unconscious."

Hermione gave a real smile at the flippant remark—it was so very "Harry." "Well, Proudfoot said he managed to get you to the Muggle hospital you had visited, and they did what they could for your injury. And while it wasn't a lot, it was better than nothing. And then he used his badge to contact the other Aurors, and here we are."

"Thank God they were smart enough to use those," Harry sighed. He said what came next without thinking.

"You really are brilliant, Hermione."

Hermione and Ginny stared at Harry and Ron—they'd complimented her simultaneously.

Ron broke the tension with a joke. "Great minds think alike."

"Yeah," Harry laughed.

Healer Pye poked his head in the doorframe again—he'd been hanging back to allow the friends time to reconnect. "Now, I'm sorry, but I must insist that Harry gets some more rest," he requested kindly. After they left, the Healer shook his head. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you, Harry?"

"I don't go looking for trouble, trouble usually finds _me,_" Harry insisted, but he saw that the man was laughing and meant no harm by his joke.

"We've had just about every Auror come through here at least a few times…Not that I mean to worry you, Harry, but…"

"Don't worry about it, Healer Pye."

"So, think you're up for a short walk to the cafeteria? I've heard stories from Poppy about how much you detest hospital wings, so I know you'd like to get out of bed. And I can see if you'll need to be kept here any longer by how the walk goes," the Healer mentioned.

"Sure." Harry took the man's arm (his stubborn teenage streak be damned) and clambered out of bed.

"Seems a bit unfair that Muggles don't have magic to cure aches and pains." Harry groaned as they approached the stairs. "Would you mind if we took the lift?"

"Not at all," the Healer answered. "And yes, it is unfortunate for Muggles to not have things like healing potions readily available for injuries, but at the same time, they don't have to worry about the threat of magic all the time, either."

"Y'know, I'm not so sure about that." Harry regretted how terse his voice sounded, given that he was talking to the man who had healed him. Still, he'd never been the best at holding his tongue.

"Well, it's not like we can save the entire Muggle world from Dark wizards, Harry," the Healer replied, trying to keep his tone light. "After all, there are plenty of nutters in their world..." his voice trailed off, and Harry suddenly felt a jolt of Hermione-like indignation at the man's indifference. As if non-magical people weren't worth as much as witches and wizards.

When they reached the cafeteria, Harry grabbed a boxed Caesar salad. He didn't feel like staying in Healer Pye's company for much longer. "Thank you for everything, sir." He inclined his head.

"Of course, Harry. Should you need any medicine, feel free to owl or drop by."

"Thanks." With that, he disapparated.

He found Ginny at home—the others had returned to work, as they'd all visited Harry during their lunch breaks.

"Feeling better, love?" she purred as he took off his coat.

"A bit." He closed his eyes, gave her a quick hug, and sank into the comfort of their living room couch.

"So what did you find out? Or is it confidential?" she asked.

"Well, the Nex is trying to overthrow the Ministry, it seems. We don't know how much support they have, and they may be trying to gain Muggle followers."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at the end of the statement. "That's horrible!"

"I know," Harry started to say, but she cut him off.

"I mean, having to deal with dark wizards again is bad enough, but now we have to worry about Muggles attacking us, too? Ugh…I dunno if I can deal with that. I mean, what if one of them just uses one of their…metal wand things on us when we're out?"

Stirrings of frustration, similar to the ones he'd felt at St. Mungo's, rose up in Harry. "I'm not sure it's completely their fault, Gin. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not worried, but they're probably being manipulated, and the Nex already attacked a whole train load of them. And Muggles don't have magic to cure injuries like we do."

"Muggles didn't have an evil nutter trying to do them in for nearly twenty years, either," Ginny answered coolly.

"No, they just had Death Eaters randomly killing them in accidents," Harry retorted quietly. He wasn't up for yelling, and yelling at a Weasley, even if she was his girlfriend, was hardly a good idea

She touched his arm. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's just…It's hard for me to relate to Muggles, cause we're always told they're so different from us," Ginny confessed. "Like they're almost not real. And I _know _you are, and I just don't want you to get hurt. But I'll try to be more understanding," she promised, and gave Harry a kiss on the forehead.

"Thanks, Gin," he murmured, kissing her back. With more difficulty than he'd like to experience, he pulled himself off the couch.

"Can I get anything for you?" she asked. "Food, medicine?"

He replied, "No, I think I just need to get some regular sleep. Could you wake me up for dinner if I'm not up before then?"

She nodded. "Sure thing."

"Thanks, babe." With that, he made his way upstairs, hoping the day would improve when he woke up—or at least, not get any worse.


	8. Safe and Sound?

Harry rushed into the Ministry. He'd gotten an owl about the attack. Complete sentences eluded him.

_Not her. Not them. My fault! Always my fault!_

"Ah…Potter is here." He turned down the hallway leading to the Aurors' office and found all of his housemates held at wandpoint. He pulled out his wand to drop it and surrender…

_"REDUCTO!"_ Hermione's head was blown clean off.

"NO!"

_SPLASH!_

Harry sputtered and thrashed about in bed.

"Harry! It's alright, you're fine, you were asleep," Ginny consoled him and applied a drying spell to counter the effects of her Aguamenti charm.

"Oh…sorry, Gin," he coughed while gulping in breaths of air. "I imagine I was…"

She completed the sentence, but maintained her kind tone. "Yelling your head off, yes. Though, to be honest, I'm glad I heard you, or else I would've just let you sleep for a while longer before dinner." Her eyes dimmed, and she gave Harry a serious look. "What was it?"

"Just stuff with the Nex," he mumbled. "Dreamt they kidnapped…well, everyone who lives here, then…" He hesitated, not quite sure why. For some reason, Harry didn't want Ginny knowing it was Hermione's death that provoked such raw emotion from him. "Err…I'm pretty sure they were just going to do all of you in, I screamed, and then…"

"Here I am," Ginny answered brightly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Stay with me." He regretted blurting that out so quickly. It sounded so…weak, and needy, and desperate.

Surprise jarred his stomach when she answered, "Sure," and crawled into bed with him.

Ginny ran her fingers through his hair, traced his lightning bolt scar, and kissed him. Harry responded automatically, deepening the kiss a bit, but pulled back. The mood eluded him. Ginny pulled him closer, kissing harder, snaking her tongue into Harry's mouth.

Harry again resisted half-heartedly. Ginny Weasley could rile him up like no other witch he'd encountered, but even her outstanding kissing ability couldn't get a rise out of Harry.

"Sorry, Gin," he managed to whisper between kisses. "I'll give you a raincheck for some fun after you win your Quidditch semi-final on Sunday, though," he murmured in her ear.

"I'm holding you to that, Harry," she laughed and, after giving him a lingering kiss, slipped out of the bed. "Dinner should be ready in a bit, everyone else owled and said they'll be home soon. Big pasta dinner sound good?"

"Yeah, definitely." His stomach rumbled in agreement.

She laughed again. "Looks like you're inheriting the Weasley appetite by dating me." With that, Ginny retreated downstairs. Harry felt a bit better, but not great.

_"Considering it is me, settling for not great is actually pretty good,_" he admitted to himself. A hint of a smile slipped onto his face, and his appetite for both dinner and companionship with his roommates led him down to the dining room.

He came downstairs to find Susan slumped down at the table, her head in her hands.

Harry frowned. "What's wrong, Susan?"

"The wizarding world," she grumbled. "It's just…so many people, both magical and non-magical, must suffer again. More than a few of my patients said…well, they've regressed since the Nex attacked. And they thought that with Voldemort gone…getting better would come naturally. It did for a lot of them." Her eyes darkened. "But now they're wondering: am I next? Is it my family?" Harry opened his mouth to try and answer, but Susan's glare cut him off. "And the worst thing is that the family and friends of Muggle born wizards—they know these things aren't accidents. They're being attacked, and our Ministry just _watches_," she hissed.

"You know I've never been the biggest fan of the Ministry, Susan, but it's a bit much, even for them, to worry about Muggles. There's too many of them compared to us!" Harry countered.

"Which is why we should be trying to make sure they know we're peaceful!" Susan shot back. "We can't hide forever, we can't put Muggle repellant charms on everything in Britain or other magical places."

They heard the music in the kitchen—a Weird Sisters' song—grow a bit quiet. "What's going on out there?" Ginny called. She liked to cast Silencing charms around the kitchen while she cooked—said it was one of the rare times she could enjoy peace and quiet in a house with six twenty-somethings. Evidently, Susan's voice had grown loud enough to penetrate the muted kitchen.

"Err…nothing," Harry called back. Susan lowered her voice, but maintained her passion. "So, does the Ministry know what they're going to do about the Nex?"

"At the moment, no. Would you mind not bringing this up in front of everyone else, please, Susan?" Harry tried not to snap. "I don't want to put everyone on edge."

Neville, Ron, and Hermione all arrived home around the same time. Hermione, per usual, had hurriedly stuffed a couple quills and rolls of parchment into her coat pocket before leaving—the cold had started biting, even though it was barely September. Ron sniffed the air appreciatively, then laughed at his girlfriend's state. "Really, Hermione, the work will be there tomorrow morning! It's not like you can't get the goblin wand request or the house elf thingy done on time, you work harder than anyone I know!"

"Good thing you're more detail oriented than Ron, though. I don't think calling a piece of legislation a thingy would go over well at the Ministry," Neville quipped. Since he'd broken out of his shell in his later years at Hogwarts, the Herbology enthusiast had developed a Weasley-ish sense of humor.

"Too right," Hermione agreed, laughing. "Still, thank you for the support, Ron," she added, kissing him on the cheek. "And this isn't work, I'm doing a tiny bit of outside research…"

Ron groaned and clapped a hand to his forehead. "Merlin, did you get another Time Turner, Mione?"

"You of all people should know what I'm capable of, Ronald," she answered primly.

Her eyes lit up upon seeing the table. "Ooh, spaghetti! Haven't had that in a while."

The group continued chatting as Harry placed a large salad bowl alongside the main pasta dish. Harry directed the conversation toward the start of the Hogwarts school year—Neville would be leaving in a week.

"So, what courses does Professor Sprout want you to teach?" he asked.

"Well, I'm teaching two sections of first and second years on my own—a mix of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors in one section, and Hufflepuffs and Slytherins in the other." He took a bite of salad and continued. "I'm also observing two classes and helping with research. Nice thing is, I get Fridays off, so I can come see you lot a fair bit."

"I just thought of something…what are we going to do about rent now that Neville's moving out?" Ginny asked.

Everyone turned expectantly to Harry. One of the drawbacks of being The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord—people still automatically looked to him for answers. "Err…I…" he stammered. No one would be particularly thrilled that he'd gone ahead and furtively paid for Neville's share out of pocket, but between his parents' fortune and the money Sirius had left him, he really had more coin than he knew what to do with.

Fortunately, Ron came to his aid. "Harry and I got our landlord to reduce the price since we cleaned up the place so well and made all those improvements when we first moved in without bugging him for even a Knut. So, rent will be the same price, even though Neville's leaving."

Everyone nodded. "Alright, that's settled, then. I had wondered about that," Susan remarked as she helped herself to more spaghetti.

Harry mouthed a silent "thank you" to Ron. Working in a rather volatile joke shop meant Ron had developed a knack for damage control.

Neville turned to Ginny. "So, miss world beating Seeker, what's the gameplan for Sunday?"

She blushed and giggled. "Well, Gudgeon recovered well enough from that Bludger a while back, so I'll definitely just be a Chaser. We'll have to put up a lot of points, though, and it won't be easy since we're going up against Wood."

"He's never seen you fly, though, has he?" Ron asked. She shook her head. "So you've got an advantage there. And you watched him for however long he was at Hogwarts."

"It's too bad Gudgeon's such an awful Seeker," Harry commented. "Can they try him at Chaser?"

"He's horrible there, too." Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. "I've no idea how he's stayed on the team for so long…"

Ginny, Ron, and Neville continued talking about the match, and Harry did something unusual—he zoned out. It had happened a couple times lately, and he couldn't quite place why. He still liked Quidditch, liked watching matches and flying. He made a mental note to ask Ginny if they could do a few laps around the stadium after the match on Sunday if the weather was alright—it had been a while since he'd taken his Firebolt out. Still…

_"Maybe I just don't think Quidditch is that important anymore?"_ Harry just couldn't talk about it for long periods of time, and it was one of the main topics that he and Ginny discussed ad nauseum.

_"Well…it's kind of like small talk, and God knows I never had time to do that at Hogwarts. So…I just have to adjust, and get used to it_._"_ Satisfied with this line of reasoning, Harry rejoined their conversation in time to hear that, if the Cannons beat Puddlemere, it would be one of the biggest upsets in the last half century of League play.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea to put a wager on the match," Ron mentioned. A dreamy smile broke out on his face as he contemplated how he could improve the shop with a boatload of Galleons.

"Ron, betting is illegal! D'you want to end up like Bagman?"

"Relax, Mione, I was just kidding!" he answered indignantly. "Merlin, you don't have to take everything so seriously. And besides, that's a great show of support for Ginny, willing to bet money on her ability."

Everyone but Hermione laughed.

Ginny smiled at Ron. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, dear brother, but Hermione's right. I've heard they really cracked down on betting rules since that whole incident with the World Cup."

Finally, everyone had finished eating.

"Thanks so much for dinner, Ginny. It was delicious," Susan enthused.

"Yeah," Neville chimed in. "We'll have to help sometime."

"Oh, it's hardly a big deal," Ginny shrugged off the praise, but blushed at the compliments. "My schedule makes it a bit easier for me to do the cooking, but I wouldn't say no to being pampered."

The group magicked away the messy dishes. Harry retreated to his room with plans to owl the Ministry and catch up on any news he'd missed during the day.

"Harry!" a voice hissed.

He turned round—it was Hermione. Her brows were furrowed together, and she had her hands on her hips. Her standard "I know you're lying" pose.

"What's up, Mione?" he tried to remain casual.

"Don't give me that…"

"Look, I know what you're gonna say, but can we discuss it privately?" Harry jerked his head toward his room.

They closed the door. "_Muffliato," _Harry muttered.

"So, you went ahead and paid for Neville's rent in full, without asking any of us if it was alright. Why?"

"Well, the value of money goes down over time, according to Ron," Harry shrugged. "I figured the landlord would rather have all of it now…"

Hermione whacked him on the top of the head, but couldn't help laughing. "Very clever answer, Harry, but you know what I mean."

He sighed. "Hermione, you know I have more money than I could ever want or need. Just think of it as a giant present to all of you for helping save my arse at one time or another."

"It's just, I don't want to owe anyone anything. Even you, Harry." Something—not fury, but resolve—blazed in Hermione's eyes.

"You don't owe me a thing," he replied firmly. "Again…do we need to go over how many times you personally have saved my arse?" He started listing. "Devil's Snare first year. You knew how the basilisk was getting round in second year. If it weren't for you, that dragon would've eaten me in the first task. Just…forget it. If anything, I still owe you. You're an amazing witch, Hermione. Just as good as me, if not better."

She blushed at the compliment, then scowled. "You need to stop doing that."

"What?"

"Selling yourself short. You're a brilliant wizard, Harry. And I'm not just saying that, you know it," she added, seeing that he was about to interrupt. "It's nothing to do with the fact that you're…whatever they call you these days." He laughed at how she avoided giving him a title. Hermione continued, "You, Harry James Potter, led Dumbledore's Army. You held off a hundred Dementors when you were thirteen. You threw off Moody's—Crouch's—Imperious Curse-"

He abruptly pulled Hermione into a hug and whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Seeing me for me…not The Boy Who Lived or whatever." Truth be told, Harry rarely doubted his abilities, but he could never shake the feeling that he'd been given things—like a position as an Auror—just because of his name.

"Course, Harry." She pulled away and fixed him with a glare, but her voice betrayed it as a joke. "You're also a prat who's far too generous with his money…but there are worse things to be in life, I s'pose."

"So you'll let this go, then?"

She smiled. "I guess, yeah."

"Thanks, Hermione."

She looked at the blank piece of parchment he'd summoned. "Who you writing?"

"The Ministry. Trying to find out what went on for the rest of the day there after I…uh…"

She looked away. "Right. I'll leave you to it, then." She made her way downstairs. Her absence reminded Harry of what had been missing earlier, when he'd woken up from his nightmare. The thing that could have made him feel even better than Ginny had.

It was Hermione.


	9. Confused Thoughts and Bad News

Harry tried to collect his thoughts while he wrote the Ministry. However, since he was asking for sensitive information, his letter couldn't contain too much detail if it were intercepted.

_"Just wondering if I missed any updates on the new situation. –AAO."_

Harry gave Atticus an owl treat, sent him out the window, and fell back onto his bed. Going through his own mind proved to be more challenging.

_"Why would I rather have Hermione around to comfort me than Ginny? That's…that's definitely not normal. Though it's not like I'm an expert on normal."_

_ "It's not as if I don't love Ginny," _he thought desperately. "_It's just…Hermione was always there for me, during Hogwarts and when we were on the run, looking for Horcruxes. She still is, now that I think about it."_

_"So, you more naturally respond to Hermione caring for you because you're accustomed to it?"_ another part of his brain piped up.

_"I s'pose…yeah, that's gotta be it!" _Buoyed by this rational breakthrough, Harry continued thinking._ "And Ginny hasn't had to do that for me since Voldemort was defeated. So I just think of Hermione as…"_

Well, Hermione fit a lot of descriptions for Harry. He'd definitely call her his best friend, along with Ron, of course. She'd become his conscience at one point or another…he couldn't say when, but at some point, whenever he'd considered doing something reckless or mean spirited, Hermione's voice warned against his way of thinking. She took care of him…but again, so did Ginny!

And he loved her. Not like a sister…he'd only said that to placate Ron. How was he supposed to know what sisterly love was when he didn't have a sister in the first place?

_"So…I just have a lot of feelings about my best friend. But why shouldn't I? We've known each other for ten years now. It's not weird…it's just the circumstances that are weird,"_ Harry decided. With that, he went back down to join his friends in their various work endeavors. He pulled out a spellbook and began reviewing how to perform a Vanishing charm on natural objects—putting a criminal down a small hole and disarming them was becoming a popular method to avoiding combat among Aurors. However, after about thirty minutes, Atticus interrupted Harry's study session with news from the Ministry. The owl gave an important hoot, then flew to the kitchen for some water. Harry eagerly read the letter, then scowled.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked. She and Ron had taken a break from work and were trying to decide what show to watch.

"There's no new information," he answered flatly.

"Well, that's a good thing, right?" Ginny chimed in.

"I guess," he admitted. "I just wish we knew more. We have so little intelligence on the Nex, even though dealing with them has become our number one mission at the moment."

"Maybe they realized that the Ministry's onto what they're doing," suggested Ron. "More importantly, the Ministry is actually competent these days, since they've added people like you and Hermione," he added, laughing. Hermione blushed at the compliment.

Susan put a couple of patient evaluation forms down and joined the group in the living room. She studied the letter. "Harry, when you say 'we,' you're referring to the Ministry, right?"

He frowned. "Of course."

"And, to a larger extent, the wizarding world?" she prompted.

"I s'pose, yeah."

"Well…you know the Nex is operating—or at least, they last were operating—near a Muggle town. What if they're doing things quietly around there…"

"And the news isn't getting back to us," he muttered. After pacing around for a second, he continued slowly. "And instead, the news is getting spread…"

"In Muggle newspapers," Hermione completed the thought.

Ginny and Ron looked up at them. "Blimey…how'd you all come up with that?"

That comment got overshadowed by Susan. "I'm going to go Apparate back to King's College…there's gotta be a Muggle newspaper stand somewhere at school!"

Harry couldn't help recalling Susan's comment from earlier. "Maybe she was right," he mumbled to himself.

"What was that, dear?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing—Susan just said maybe the Ministry should be looking more carefully into Muggle affairs, and I wasn't sure about it…"

"Harry, you can hardly blame yourself for what the Ministry does or doesn't do!" Ginny insisted. "You only started there two years ago. And they do keep contact with the Muggle Prime Minister. Maybe they'll get in touch with him more now."

Ron echoed his sister's sentiments. "I know you're…" Ron fixed him with a faux serious look. "The Vanquisher…" Harry snorted a laugh, and Ron, grinning, kept going. "But still, mate, you can't fix the world's problems in one go. And you shouldn't have to."

Hermione frowned. "What is it?" everyone asked.

"Well, like Ginny was saying…if the Muggle Prime Minister is in contact with us, shouldn't we have gotten some warning from him by now?"

_"Of course, Hermione wouldn't overlook a detail like that," _Harry thought. His mood soured at the potential for bad news, but he kept his tone light. "Well, maybe we're all just overreacting, and there's nothing going on. We've gotten lucky before, right?"

Susan returned, her face ashen. _The Telegraph's_ headline tossed Harry's optimism into a grave.

**ATTACK ON PRIME MINISTER IN LONDON**

_"It appears London is once again being subjected to attacks from mysterious folk. A stand-off occurred today, and it resulted in the hospitalization of Tony Blair. Blair claimed he was taking a walk near his office when he was accosted by an unknown man. A fight broke out when three passers-by saw and stopped the attempted kidnapping. The attacker vanished mysteriously. Blair commented, "The attacker let me know in very clear terms that he was part of a Ministry that I had previously trusted. I am strongly questioning whether I was right to trust these other people in the first place, and would like to thank those who saved me from kidnapping or injury." _

_ No one has determined the reason for Blair to make such a vague statement, but both he and members of his office have confirmed that the intended audience will understand his message."_

"So someone from the Ministry is a traitor!" Ron declared.

"Or…the Nex set this whole thing up," Harry countered.

"Those are the only two logical options, and neither one's good," Hermione admitted.

Harry grabbed the paper impulsively. "I've gotta get to the Ministry."

"And what if you're walking into a trap?" Hermione asked, her voice holding a touch of steel.

"She could be right, you know," Susan murmured.

"If it is, I don't want you lot all there…plus it's a sight harder to get guests in now," Harry added quickly.

"Well, I'd rather like to hear what the Ministry has to say about this. Plus, you know we can hold our own," Hermione said.

By now, everyone in the room had stood up, prepared to Apparate.

Harry looked at all of them. He knew they wanted information firsthand. "Fine. Let's go."


End file.
